A/N: here's a little aside while I avoid actually finishing the Cherry Soda Boy chapter, which is literally almost done. I think I am just delaying the inevitable. Also, feeling a bit like Steven King who can't land an ending. Anyway, remember how Cloud kept giving Cid bedroom eyes and then tried playing it off like nothing, here's his stream on conscious thoughts on the subject. Enjoy!

August 2003

South Beach

Father Capodanno Boulevard

I don't remember the actual dare. Or whose voice it was attached to.

I remember the soft ringing when the words slammed against my ear.

How they tasted bitter… tickled like pepper in the back of my throat.

But I understood the language despite seeming foreign; soft and unassuming.

My heart shuddered. The words trembled down my spine, to my stomach, and flipped.

All terribly familiar emotions- and I'm about to disregard the suggestion. Bury everything. But Cid Highwind doesn't give me the chance..

Cid grabbed me and the world, to my surprise, didn't stop. No pause. Not even a second to register. Instead the speed of momentum increased.

Cid grabbed me and I felt his skin on the back of my neck like a thousand sprouting flowers.

Cid grabbed me and without hesitation pressed our lips together.

And he tasted like my cigarettes.

Like tequila and uncertainty.

Metal. Cold and soft.

And we kissed for just about the acceptable amount of time. Before the other eyes could share silent glances. Arch brows like question marks.

We kissed for just about the exact time it took for me to never want him to stop.

Which was exactly the right amount of time it took for me to regret the whole thing.

Especially when he pulled away. The empty space between us frigid as he shouted, "Boom" like thunder.

And that should have been the only time-

Should have been smarter.

But two weeks later, the Ye-Old English tasted like gasoline on our tongues and heavy on our heads.

And the filthy sand felt like fairy dust. Waves caressing the broken shore, the sound like rain on the roof. Both of us, leaning against the vacant boardwalk. Cracked visages of teenage boys laughing through our growing pains.

When he looked at me.

Damn, your eyes, his breath on my lips as he leaned, they glow. Tobacco on his words. Reminded me of the first time.

And no dare to blame. No giggle of girls to fan the flame.

Just us and our teenage stupidity.

But we kissed through the fog.

And kissed. And kissed.

Until we fell back onto the sand. Soft bed of tiny particles. The ocean a record of all the songs I sang in his name when he couldn't hear.

And his lips.

Fuck, his lips. Nights I've tried to forget his taste. Like dark chocolate. His kiss robbed me of my breath. My brain. My guard.

My whole body vibrated like pins and needles.

Numb

And overwhelmed.

I felt almost free. And I wanted to live in the moment forever. Ourselves fused under the spotlight of the waning moon. In the empty beach. The only two souls.

But he jerked away.

Blue eyes the shade of twilight stared at me with an ocean between us.

I think I'm drunk he said.

I think I am, too I lied.

He pushed himself off. Couldn't bear to look at me- and for the best.

I allowed the nightly stars to engulf my gaze instead. Blinked while he jumped to his feet. Quarter of the bottle down his throat. I blinked while he grabbed his vest littered in patches from bands we hardly know.

And blinked when he offered an excuse I waved off.

I blinked when he vanished under the boardwalk, leaving me on the sand, on the tiny broken glass.

And blinked and blinked, until I could no longer hold in all that salty sea of regret.